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"Oh, your theories about life, your theories about love, your

theories about pleasure. All your theories, in fact, Harry."

"Pleasure is the only thing worth having a theory about," he

answered in his slow melodious voice. "But I am afraid I cannot

claim my theory as my own. It belongs to Nature, not to me.

Pleasure is Nature's test, her sign of approval. When we are

happy, we are always good, but when we are good, we are not

always happy."

"Ah! but what do you mean by good?" cried Basil Hallward.

"Yes," echoed Dorian, leaning back in his chair and looking at

Lord Henry over the heavy clusters of purple-lipped irises that

stood in the centre of the table, "what do you mean by good,

Harry?"